


I can't sleep

by Fusselfriek



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bi-Curiosity, Bottom John, Boys Will Be Boys, Drunk John, F/M, Gay Sherlock, John is missing Sherlock, Kissing, M/M, Mary is god knows who, Minor Character Death, Post-His Last Vow, Sex with a stranger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-04-04 13:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4139844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fusselfriek/pseuds/Fusselfriek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternative Universe were Sherlock did go on the plane and Moriarty didn't come back to stop him.<br/>John is left on his own with a babydaughter and a wife thats an assassin and with his mayor trust issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Now that you're gone

**Author's Note:**

> It is nowhere near finished and I guess i made quite a lot mistakes, but I hope you all will forgive me because I'm not an native speaker. 
> 
> So yeah, leave me some comments. All is appreciated! :)

John woke up in the middle of the night. Mary, next to him was breathing deep and slowly. He got off the bed and walked into the bathroom. He locked the door. The man in the mirror didn't remotely looked like him. He looked tired, worn down. And he knew...it wasn't just because of the baby. “You look terrible!” the familiar deep voice told him.

He turned around. “Why now? Sherlock? I didn't see you for four months...” “I don't know, John. Maybe your state of health isn't the best. Little sleep and busy days for four months, it's very likely your head does weird things” “Weird things? You don't talk like this.” “You're tired, John! You should sleep!” “You don't get it, do you? You left me. Again! And you know whats worse?” John turned around to face his illusion. “I know you are somewhere. Getting into trouble? Getting shot at? And I can't help you!”

His face crumbled. “I have a daughter, Sherlock! And a wife that's an assassin. I need you too tell me again that I can trust her...because I can't.” He felt tears rolling down his face, immediately trying to rub them off. He sunk onto the floor holding his knees to his body. The Sherlock sat on the closed tap of the toilet in an equal position, but he stopped talking.

There was a ring at the door and he heard Mary getting up. “Hello, I'm sorry but what are you...oh okay come in then.” Mary spoke quietly but the intruder must whisper because John couldn't hear a bloody word. “John wasn't there when I woke up, maybe he is out jogging.” A silence was all he could hear but there must have been some talking then Mary suddenly banged on the bathroom door. “John, are you in there?” “Hmph!” he snorted back, “Give me a minute”

Sherlock was already gone and the guy in the mirror looked almost more terrible then before. Now his eyes were red and his lids swollen. Splashing cold water in his face he tried to think about the unknown guest. There was actually only one man who could come to him in the middle of the night and gets Mary to let him in. But that guy was lost since four months ago. “Six weeks, my brother estimate. He's never wrong.” And then? Where are you now?

When his face looked a bit better, John walked out of the room. Mary and their visitor were engaged in an conversation in the kitchen. Still Mary was all he could hear. “But seriously what are you here for?” “I'm sorry, but I just need to talk to John” Mycroft said. John was standing in the kitchen door, suddenly all eyes on him. He felt Mycrofts eyes flicker over his body nothing then cold and analytic. He saw John. Immediately John wanted to close his eyes. He felt ashamed, naked. Clearly in the minute Mycroft was looking at him, he saw everything that he tried to hide. Hours and hours that he's been staying awake, not for the sake of the baby. All the missing sex, the worries, the pain... “John!” Mycroft said “I need you to come with me, but you should dress first.” He was ready in under 2 minutes.

Mycroft already left, he was waiting in the backseat of the large black car right outside the house. John got into the car. The black leather seats felt strangely familiar, like friends from another happier time. “So, he's back then?” Mycroft just looked at him, waiting for him to say the real question on his mind. “In what condition?” “He's...alive.” “Guess, we're going to a hospital then?” The other mans face suddenly hardens “John, you look terrible...”he states. “Before we're going anywhere we are going to check your health.” John straightened a bit “I'm not sick, I just wanna see him!” “No offense but you do look like you're gonna have nervous break down any minute.” John wanted to curse, to shout at the guy in the expensive suit in front of him. But he saw at Mycrofts face that there was no fight. No battle to win. It was just an information, something that is about to happen weather he wants it or not. He sunk back in his seat.

After a while the car stopped. There wasn't much that Mr. Watson actually remembered after the check in with the docor. He just remembered a nice guy with a black beard that told him to undress and to cough. Mycroft picked him up after he came out of the doctor's room. “So, how bad is my condition?” “Nothing that can't be fixed by a lot of sleep and good food.” “Cake, in that case” John mumbled under his breath. Mycroft just pretended not to hear a thing. The two men walked along some corridors, got up some stairs and finally stood in front of a door. “Good luck!” That was all Mycroft said before he walked away and let John alone with his pounding heart.

He walked in and the first thing that occupied his eyes were really really white walls and a small single bed in the middle of the room. “Sherlock” he breathed and sunk in a chair next to the bed. In the bed was in fact Sherlock, though he wasn't conscious. He wanted to tell him things, scream at him, shake him and make him answer him all the questions that he had since this idiot went away. But he felt that it was too late. With the fact of knowing that Sherlock was alive his reason to stay awake simply slipped. And so all he could was gently stroking his friends arm and then dropping his head near the other men's hip and completely fell asleep.


	2. Love is never easy.

A view hours later Sherlock woke up. To his left side was a sleeping and slightly snoring John.  
„Hello John.“ John looked up, his hair was a mess, he looked sleepy and angry. „Hello, Sherlock. Four months, not a call, not a text. What happened to six weeks?” “I don't know what happened, I wasn't supposed to come back.” John felt himself pale. He had always known. Deep down in his heart that this last goodbye was in fact the last time he should have been seeing him. But he couldn't brought himself to believe it. But now it was clear. The look on Sherlocks face. The way he had held his hand just a tiny bit to long. It was right there in front of his eyes and he had looked at him asking himself what would be the outcome of this thing. And here it was: Sherlock laying in hospital in front of him, staring intently at him probably trying to read the thoughts of Dr. John Watson. And John Watson could stop himself from asking: “Why are you saying this?” 

“Obviously because I knew I was going to die.” Sherlock said calm. To calm for Johns racing mind. “You knew? You knew you were going to die and you didn't say anything? Nothing? I would have come with you. I would have stopped that bloody plane by myself I had known.” “Calm down, John.” “No, I'm not calming down. Not if You say it anyway. Why are you so stupid, why you never think? You left me here alone, while you went of to a bloody suicide mission in eastern Europe.” “I don't understand. I gave you everything you wanted. A wife and a future with your unborn daughter.” “Oh yeah you did. And what about you? Couldn't you use your brilliant mind to find a better idea then shooting a guy in the head? For god's sake why couldn't we just go, spent some time in prison until your brother would have bailed us out. And then left to fucking gran canary. Or New zealand, I don't care at all. I just care that you stupid guy would have been with me, in my life. Not dead in some different country.” “John you being overly dramatic. I'm still here.” Sherlock sighted and looked to the clock, ticking away. Why couldn't John just go. Leave him here, let him go. The first month when he went away, it was suddenly all about the work again. No bloody feelings got in the way, no desire to touch or kiss his flatmate could flaw his brilliant mind. Later it came back but he got over it quickly by satisfying his need with a nice good looking bloke named victor who showed him everything there is to know about his body and how to use it. It calmed him and satisfied him more then the drugs did. But now that he was back and could stare into the dark blue eyes of his loved soldier he couldn't remember how tame his cravings. Bloody hell he could already feel his lower body betraying him. 

“I'm over dramatic? You always leave me behind, you jump of buildings for my sake and shoot guys because they're threaten my wife but you never think about what I have to go through when I loose you.” Sherlock could feel how the drugs that his doctor gave him were slowing his mind. But worse he could feel how his heart overtook his mind. With his last strength he said: “Please go John.” But he didn't go. “No, sherlock, give me a real answer, tell me what were you thinking?” And Sherlock sighted again, this time his mind went blank and all the words left in his heart for ages came out. “Because I love you John. I can't ignore this fact. I love you since you told me I was brilliant in the car to our first adventure. And I can't think straight around you. All I can think is how it would be to kiss you, how it would feel to spent the night in your arms. And I hate that, You are married, you have a daughter. You love and care about them and I'm not a part of that. I couldn't stand it and I still can't. And that's why I don't want to be a part of your life. It hurts to much.” 

John was red. He had reddened the whole time while Sherlock was speaking and now he looked like a overripe tomato. “I hate you right now. Two years and you couldn't tell me that?” He sprang to his feets, ran outside. The banging door was all there was in his aftermath.


	3. Sex is easier.

John couldn't go straight home. Of course he landed in his favorite local in the middle of London. Mary would wonder but he couldn't care less. His best friend was in love with him and hadn't said a word for three bloody years. Why? Because he said that he wasn't gay? But maybe he wanted to know anyway? The whisky he orderd came and after the third class it took the edge of. The thought about sherlock loving him lost his fright. So what if he loved him? That didn't mean he had to change? But it did somehow. He felt dizzy and drunk and in the mood to do something crazy. In the good old days he could have gone racing after some criminal and watching Sherlocks mind was amazing enough to keep him calm. But the last four months was just about changing diapers and missing his best friend. He felt like he was on a leash, and his inner demons kept him on edge. He knew he had to much and he weaved to the bar to pay. On the way to the toilet he almost dripped over his own legs. 

When he came back he noticed a handsome man at the end of the bar. He was tall, had blond hair, quite young, maybe 35 or something. Long legs, god those legs were long. And his face wasn't just pretty it was gorges. John could say that, he had thought enough about gayness and hadn't the slightest problem with admitting that this stranger was hot. Hot, messy thoughts of the stranger pressing his nice face into the pillow beneath him lured their way into his mind. He coughed and went to the door, only looking at his feet. As he almost reached the door someone grabbed his arm. “Hello handsome,” came a very manly, very deep, silky voice. He turned around just to see his consumption proofed to be correct. It was the handsome guy. “I saw you staring at me.” Johns mind gave a quick analysis about the strangers motives. He could start a fight, but the way he stared at his lips and didn't let got of his arm told him that his motivation was quite positive. “I might have.” said John. “Good, honey.” The man leaned closer and whispered in Johns ear: “ Because I have plans for you and me tonight. Just follow me. I live on the opposite side of the street. Then he let got and walked off and John followed him like a puppy not knowing why or what he was doing. Nobody said a word until both of them were staying in the bedroom. John's mind was racing, was he about to do what it looked like he was? Was this guy for real, he didn't really know anything about gay sex. And why would he want to know? Chances were high that he just tried this because of Sherlock. His train of thoughts were cut off when the stranger turned around. He immediately felt like he had to tell him: “I'm sorry,...but...I haven't done this in a while...” “What, having sex with a guy? To be honest I didn't thought that you had ever sex with a guy.” John opend his mouth and then closed it again. The stranger smiled slightly smug. “Thats what I thought. But don't worry.” He approached him slowly. “I'm very good at what I'm doing.”

John swallowed hard and the stranger simply took his face in his hands and started kissing him. His lips were dry against his own, simple and sweet. While kissing him, the guy started roaming his body with his hands. It felt weird to not be the person who can't keep his hands still and that a guy was touching his back while his other hand started at his chest. He deepened the kiss and slowly inserted his tongue. While doing so his hand slipped lower and lower and suddenly griped a bit too rough between his legs. John hissed but couldn't move away from the intense kiss because the other hand had somehow found his way to the back of his head and hold him firmly into place. Gosh this was hot. He felt that the weird sensation between pain and pleasure was getting him hard. He kissed the stranger back and tried to grip his hips to feel steadier on his legs but somehow this wasn't what the other guy had in mind. He let go of him and started to undress his shirt. He was good, in under 10 minutes, John was standing panting and gasping in only boxers in front of him and now fully hard. The guy let his eyes wonder and then finally got naked himself. He didn't need anymore foreplay so it appeared because suddenly he stood in front of John fully naked and ready to go.

“Wow, this is...” John said but his mind was tangling between craving and fear. The guy came closer, so close that John could feel the hard member of the other guy on his hip. “I want you on the bed, on your knees, beautiful.” John obeyed willingly and got himself in position on the bed. He couldn't see the guy anymore but was incredibly aware of every noise he could hear. It wasn't much though. He only heard a click of a bottle, probably lube. Suddenly he felt his boxers turned down and felt exposed but free. Without further ado a single cold wet finger was slipped into him. He bit his lower lip and asked himself what he was doing, but the honey voice told him to relax. He did and the second finger got in. He tried to calm his breathing and it got him through until the third finger came. This time he wanted to flinch. 

To buckle away from the fingers. But he didn't do it. He let his head fall on the pillow and let the other guy stretch him and prepare him to do more intimate things to him. He didn't said a single word but the man could feel him struggling around his fingers. “Breath, my dear. And Relax. You're hurting yourself by not letting go.” But he couldn't. The guy realized the problem and started to stroke his back slightly. It took a while but then he probably thought it was enough. John heard the clicking noise again and felt the hot hard member of his one-night stand brushing his entrance. With a last panting: “Relax, honey!” he slid his penis in the other mans anus. For John suddenly his world crumbled. Maybe because it was this very moment that the alcohol ceased and he realized with a very clear mind what he was doing, and suddenly hidden thoughts and brushed off imaginations late at night came together in this one very real instant. His whole body screamed for more. And that was good because the guy started to pick up speed. His thrusts came quicker and and bit rougher what got John going. But he didn't leave him hanging. His hand wrapped around Johns overly painful hard member and began to work him off. Everytime the mans penis hit his prostate John couldn't help but moaning. The thrusts came even quicker, John's head sunk down and he came over himself, the hand of the stranger and the sheets. He felt somehow through his foggy haze that the guys jerks came without precision. He felt one last thrust, a bit on his shoulder and suddenly hot slick cum filled every centimeter of his inside giving him a prickling sensation waving through his body.   
They stayed this way for a while, John sweaty and dirty, pressed in the sheets and the other one still balls-deep in him, his head pressed in Johns neck. Then he pulled away, only to let John get under the blanket. Then he slipped in as well and took him into his arms. John felt perfectly fine and remembered the last time he had sex this satisfying was in his honeymoon. He stared at the ceiling, there were some lights but not so much to feel uncomfortable. He felt the strong arms around him and for some reason his body ached to be taken again. “Do you always do this?” he asked quietly. “What?” “Cuddle with your One-nightstand?” “No, just the ones I want to see again.” “Why would you want that?” “Great Sex...” He kissed his shoulder lazy. “And this...” And with that he took Johns Hand and lead it under the blanket to his body. John could feel the long, thick member already hard again, pressing against his hand, some drops of precum leaking out. “You want me again?” John asked breathlessly. His ass was already stretched and felt sour but his desire to cum again was stronger. “Not just once, my dear. Whats your name?” “I'm John.” “Good John, my name is Sebastian...”


	4. Your secret is mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up is never easy...

The room was filled with bright sunlight. John felt sticky all over his body. He opened his eyes slowly just to see Sebastian still sleeping next to him. The memories tried to find a way back into his head and he felt like dying from embarrassment. While the second time, John on his back Sebastian facing him this time, the door had opened. A sneaky guy in an expensive suit came in. Fucking Mycroft looked at him, without any expression on his face. John wanted to crawl out of bed, explain everything but Sebastian was having none of that. “Well, this is new. I see you're enjoying yourself. No reason at all for Sherlock to worry about you. I'd be happy to tell him the news.” He tapped his umbrella three times on the floor and left. The two guys were once again alone. Seb just gave him a look of not exactly knowing what all this was, and John knew he needed to make it up to him. If he would have been alone he would have walked around trying to hit himself for being so stupid, but in Sebastian he found someone not caring for unwelcome intruders but to fill his needs.  
John felt himself reddening again at this memory and asked himself how he could spend all this night not thinking about it. The mess next to him must be an extraordinary lover. He got up and immediately lay down again. His whole body was hurting. His legs hurt from being in uncomfortable positions, being stretched open like is hole. There was the worst pain but the other parts hurt like he did an extreme among of workout. And he was sticky. Mostly of course between his legs, but also his hands and on his chest and even in his hair. Also he could still taste cum in his mouth. He remembered when Sebastian had told him to get on his knees and open his mouth. He wouldn't have done this if Mycroft wouldn't had barged in. His penis was hurting too from having come to often this night. Finally he managed to get up from the bed, take his clothes and find a shower. While in it he finally felt a little better, but right there he felt the strangest sensation. While feeling the water touch his body and washing away all signs of the sin, he wanted to do it again. If Sebastian would have joined him in the shower to fuck him against the wall, he wouldn't have said a word. John lowered his head down. This wasn't good at all. He needed to get home. And he did, right after being dry and stealing a toothbrush. When he got home Mary was waiting with the baby in the kitchen. “Hello honey, where were you last night?” “I was in a hotel, I got drunk because I had a fight with Sherlock.” The thing was that Mary would believe him. She hugged him and he shivered from pain. “Whats wrong, love? Beside Sherlock and all?” “I uhm...” “Have you got into a fight?” She looked him over, worrying. “Yeah, Sorry. I just....I was so angry. Sherlock can be such a dick.” “Believe me I get that.” she laughed and he did too just being glad the questions were over. “You can go to bed if you want.” 

Laying in his bed, he felt the memories taking over. But not in good hot kind of way but with regret. He didn't think. He even was too afraid to see himself in the mirror because sure there would be marks all over his body. In places that he couldn't even dream about. His brain didn't even let him remember everything Sebastian had done with him, because he just couldn't take it. He hadn't been himself. “I can't go out ever again.” was all he could think off. And then it hit him. Mycroft. That stupid jerk probably ran off to Sherlock to tell him everything that he saw. He needed to know. Grabing his phone he tried getting through but of course he couldn't reach him. So then he needed to see him. He kissed Mary goodbye and mumbled something that he got a call from Mycroft and ran off. He got on a taxi and stared out of the window. There were only two places were he could imagine Mycroft at: The Diogenes Club or his mansion. The first one was the place he wanted to start. And he was lucky. After running around this big quiet building he found him sitting in his favorite chair. He was reading a newspaper and didn't remotely show that he acknowledged the appearance of the man. “Mycroft!” John began, talking very quietly. Now the newspaper was folded and John was facing the very not surprised Mycroft. “Hello again John, I'm very glad you choose to dress yourself this time.” “Yeah, so sorry about that, but it wasn't me who invited you.” John sarcastically replied. “I heard my Brother told you about his heart. How very telling that you choose a random stranger over him.” “I didn't...anyway that is none of your business. I'm only here to ask you if you told him.” “As you were saying correctly, that is none of my business. Just a word of advice: if you're intending to keep this a secret, be less obvious.” “I'm not intending anything. I just made a mistake.” Mycroft just nodded at him, like a mighty king to one of his servants.  
John turned around. But the moment when he reached the door, Mycroft spoke again. “John.” He looked back. “Please be aware that I know your secret. And with that I hold power over you, so if I ever ask anything of you again, you better come running.” With that he hid his face again behind the newspaper. John felt himself pale while he left the room.


End file.
